To Catch a Killer: Markson Regency Mystery Series Collection Read online

  “Oh, lord.” Donna gasped. “You mean our uncle?”

  He nodded to his sister. “But last I heard from Father while in Spain, he died. At least that’s the report I got. The only time in twenty-five years Father even mentioned his name.”

  “Then he’s very much alive or has someone who looks like him,” the countess interjected.

  Kristina knew what needed to be done— what she’d wanted to tell her parents earlier, but hadn’t. With a deep, calming breath she looked to Robert. “Remember what we discussed over lunch? Those items you wanted me to peruse. Mayhap now might be an excellent time to let the Earl and Countess know of their existence.”

  From the way his eyes, even in pain from the wound, softened to her, she supposed he wanted to agree with her. When she detected the faintest of nods, she knew she’d been correct.

  “My dear, as I’m starting to fatigue, would you explain what we talked about? I believe your parents most assuredly could be of assistance, along with my sister,” Robert finished with a glance to Donna.

  As briefly as possible, Kristina explained about the letters his mother had received from his and Donna’s uncle.

  “Thank you. Unfortunately I only learned of their existence today and barely have had a chance to read any.”

  “And I never did,” Donna added. "After our mother’s death Bing and I hid them away, not knowing if they would be of use or needed. As we all now know, they could hold the key to the murders."

  From the interested looks on her parents' faces, Kristina guessed they wondered the same. “M’ lord, might we be permitted to review them? In your presence of course,” the countess requested.

  In the distance Kristina heard noises, and from the sudden turning of his head, she knew Robert did also. She was about to wonder aloud as to the cause when his butler appeared at the parlor door.

  “Excuse the interruption, but there are several ladies and gentlemen requesting to learn of your health, m’ lord.”

  “Tell them and anyone who asks that I’m doing well and will be out and about within the next day or so,” he announced.

  “No,” Kristina interrupted. After a deep breath, she continued. “Tell any and all the wound was much more serious than first thought and there’s the strong possibility he will need at least a week to fully recover.”

  “Wait. I know what you’re thinking. If the person or persons think I might die, then they’ll want to make sure of it. It would also give me the opportunity to sneak around without anyone knowing.”

  “Exactly, Robert,” Kristina confirmed, but on using his Christian name, her face heated from embarrassment.

  “And possibly allow them the chance to try again, to make sure,” the earl mentioned, frowning.

  “That also would assure they were arrested and made to pay,” Robert added.

  “Also with you supposedly dying, it would allow myself—escorted, of course— to visit daily so we can review the letters. If I might recommend your sister accompany me as it would seem more natural.” Kristina knew, considering the way they'd danced only with each other last night and the comments from The Tattler, people would expect her to visit for long periods of time daily.

  “As your mother it would also be natural for me to stop by to see how he’s doing and report back that it doesn’t look good,” the countess suggested.

  “Please, let’s not put me in the ground too early,” Robert said with a chuckle, then turned to Bing. “Then it’s set. Inform my visitors I’m near death's door and can’t be disturbed, but Lady Rosewood and Lady Kersey will be keeping a watch. If there are any changes for the good or bad, they will inform those in the know.”

  “I know it’s not my place, but I feel I should say this is the wisest decision, m' lord,” his butler said with a grin. He bowed and went to deliver the news.

  With Bing gone, Kristina focused more on Robert. He looked tired and haggard, which worried her greatly. If anything he need to return to his suite and rest. “Father, might I suggest we return home?”

  “I agree. However I feel it would be best for the ruse to work if you, along with Lady Kersey—” he paused and nodded to Donna, “—remain for a little longer. I’ll have the coach sent back with extra footmen for your protection.”

  “To help maintain propriety for our daughter, I’ll stay also,” the countess recommended.

  “Yes. But only for an hour or so, as staying any longer would seem inappropriate. It would also allow us to review the missives our uncle sent,” Robert uttered.

  Now with permission to read the letters, Kristina knew she’d be able to resolve the murders quickly and easily since, as she suspected they were the key.

  With her father returning to their townhouse and Robert ensconced in his bed— much to her dismay, without her— Kristina retired with her mother and Donna to start reading the letters

  Chapter Seven

  After several days of reading over the letters from his uncle, Robert was just as far from learning anything helpful as he had been when they'd started. To make matters worse, there wasn’t any reference of him returning to England and taking his son back to India. The only mention of an offspring was about a son he'd had with a captain’s sister, whom he'd been forced to marry.

  Even studying the different family portraits in the gallery didn’t bring the expected results. None of the men had black hair, much less with a white stripe. Frustrated with the lack of progress, Robert paced his office, more comfortable now that he no longer needed a sling for his arm except in the evening when he tired.

  Turning back to restart his angry march, he had a thought.

  “Ladies?” Today he spoke to not only the Countesses of Crossington and Frome, but to Kristina as well. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but with family portraits doesn’t the artist always seek, in fear for his life and reputation, to present everyone in the best light possible? What if Grandfather insisted all the men be shown with variations of brown hair?”

  “Agreed, but the last artist died several years ago from old age, so we can’t ask him. Which means there’s no one living we can,” Donna said, understanding what he meant.

  “Actually, there is one. Albeit at the time he was very young. I’m speaking of Bing. When the last was painted he was a senior footman and might remember. Don’t forget, we never questioned him about any of this.”

  Robert reached for the bell to ring for his butler, who entered almost immediately. “M’ lord.”

  “Tea and finger sandwiches for the ladies and a brandy for me,” he ordered.

  “Very good m’ lord, m' ladies,” Bing answered. With a bow, he slipped from the room.

  “Ladies, are we missing something in the letters? We’ve read them all and in order and haven’t found a hint of anything in them which gives us a clue as to what he was doing, much less up to,” Robert said, frustrated.

  “Agreed, but I’m still unclear as to why your uncle and mother would risk sharing information,” Kristina mused.

  “I do believe, as we’ve only have half the letters and since all of this started even before I was born, Bing might have the answers. So far he’s been able to tell me what I needed. Now we must find out how much he remembers. Don’t forget this all occurred over twenty-five years ago and his memory might not be as precise now as then,” Robert answered, happy to see the ladies nod their understanding.

  “Brother, what about Mrs Stoneworth?” Donna suggested. She’s been in the household for as long, if not longer, than Bing. I also know she keeps a diary. I feel what he can’t provide, she might."

  “And what we learn from both, and then taking the letters into context, wouldn’t it be possible to estimate what your mother would have written to him? Also, I would suggest we interview each separately and take notes on what they tell us. Then afterwards, talk with them together to see if any further memories are forthcoming.”

  “Kristina, that’s a wonderful suggestion,” Robert said as the butler stepped in with a tray laden
with sandwiches, tea, and a brandy.

  While they partook of their refreshments, which Robert knew he desperately needed as he was starting to feel fatigued, they discussed what particular questions they’d ask Bing. He recommended Kristina take notes as he knew she was a better scribe than Donna, which brought giggles from both ladies. Once finished, he called his butler into the parlor.

  “Bing, on the day I was shot, Lady Rosewood noticed a man galloping away on a grey horse. What made him unique was his hair color— black, with a white stripe. Does that description sound familiar?”

  “I do believe so, m’ lord. From what I recall, your grandfather had a mistress who was similarly tressed. I later heard it was a trait of the woman’s family. It seemed all the children were born this way,” Bing responded.

  Robert glanced to the ladies, a frown on his face. He could see they were worried also, and he suspected for the same reason. There could be other men out there with the same feature. “Would you happen to know what happened to Lord Markson’s grandfather’s mistress?” Kristina asked.

  “Aye, m’ lady. Shortly after Maurice was born, she was struck down in the street by a runaway coach. At almost the same time the viscountess gave birth to m’ lord’s father. Her Ladyship insisted on having the boy raised with her son, your father,” the butler finished.

  With this new information, including the untimely passing of the woman, Robert now suspected his attacker was directly related to his uncle. The only question now was how. “Thank you, Bing. For what you’ve told us. Please ask Mrs Stoneworth to join us.”

  “At once, m’ lord.”

  He waited until they were alone, even if it would only be for a short while. Then, knowing he’d face the wrath of the ladies, sat up and leaned against the back of the settee. They scowled at him as he’d predicted. Kristina opened her beautiful lips to say something, which he halted with a raised hand.

  “I know what you’re going to say, so don’t. With this person out there, we— or rather, I— need to bring him out into the open as he hasn’t made another attempt on my personage. I’ve it on very good authority neither of you have been attending any balls for the past week. Tonight I’d like you to go out and spread the word I’m on the mend, and thusly will be about in the next day or two.”

  “I do believe what you’re suggesting will accomplish what we want,” Kristina said, standing and coming to sit beside him. "I only worry about the risk. Heaven forbid I lose you after waiting all these years to find you."

  Robert schooled his expression on hearing her words, as it was the first time either had voiced any affection to one another in earshot of others. From the look of astonishment his sister wore, he knew the two hadn’t discussed it either which, to a point, he found strange.

  Kristina settled her hand on his. “Robert, we’re asked to attend three or four balls per evening. Might I recommend you accept each one, but then appear at only one. This way it will keep him guessing, forcing him to meet you where you wish and are better protected.”

  “Other than that, Sister, do you have any suggestions on how to bring this person out of hiding?”

  He grinned on seeing her glance to Kristina and suspected the lady beside him returned it as he saw a slight nod from Donna.

  “Actually, no, Brother. I do believe her plan will work perfectly, and with both of us attending with you no one will try anything,” Donna replied.

  A knock on the parlor door informed him the housekeeper had arrive. Maybe another few questions might be answered. “Please come in, Mrs Stoneworth,” he responded.

  She gave them a curtsey. “M’ lord, you wished to speak with me?”

  “Please have a seat,” he requested. "We need to ask you about events which happened years ago." With a relaxed grin he waited while she made herself comfortable in a satin-covered, straight-backed chair near him.

  “M’ lord, with your permission?” Kristina asked.

  “With pleasure, m’ lady.” He loved the playful, coy smile she sent him before she continued.

  “Mrs Stoneworth, as you’re well aware we’ve been looking into the circumstances of the attempt on Lord Markson. From these letters—” she waved her hand over the stack, "—we’ve only now learned Maurice Markson, a bastard, communicated with m’ lord’s mother over the years. The letters ended about five years ago.”

  “Yes, m’ lady, that’s correct. He died in India after being mauled by a tiger while hunting. This information came to me by way of my sister, who’d been head of his household.”

  Robert wasn’t the only one who gasped at the revelation. Without prompting, the housekeeper unfolded the story of why his mother and uncle had communicated.

  "After being exiled, he, soon after arriving, got the daughter of a captain great with child and was forced into marriage," Mrs. Stoneworth recounted. "The result was a boy. Maurice portrayed himself as a distant heir to the Hampshire title, to which his wife and offspring would inherit someday as there weren’t children by the current viscount, m’ lord’s father, at that time. Maurice constantly wrote to the viscountess enquiring about the health of her husband, and on learning of the birth of both sons, became despondent.

  “Wait a moment, Mrs Stoneworth. If I understand correctly my late uncle believed he was next in line, after my father. In as such his offspring, should he die before taking over the title, would then inherit it.”

  “Yes, m’ lord. I know I should have mentioned this earlier, but decided it was best to hear the story. My sister, knowing I was employed here, sent me the Viscountess’ letters. It seemed also your mother was in love with your uncle, but wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her marriage to the viscount.”

  Now everything was coming together. Before Maurice died, he must have passed his deluded belief on to both sons. They now, singularly or together, must have killed his father and brother. Now they were after him, thus removing any encumbrance to their claim on the title. The brothers must have been surprised by learning he'd lived.

  What bothered him most of all was the prospect of reading his mother’s letters. What would they do to aid in finding the murders? Would it be worth the pain of learning about his mother keeping a distant lover?

  His sister's voice interrupted his thoughts, thanking Mrs Stoneworth and asking her not to discuss the story and to make the letters available. The woman stood, curtsied, then slipped from the room, which fell into total silence.

  He felt lips on his cheek. “Darling, there’s no rush as we now have many of the answers.”

  With a shake of his head, he forced himself back to the present, which had all but crumbled around him save his love and sister. “Now what do we do? What Mrs Stoneworth just told us… I never thought such a thing could have happened. Donna, did you know Mother was in love with Maurice? Because I never did, nor did I suspect anything.”

  He watched and waited while she mulled it over. “Never. Our parents were at the forefront of marriages based on love even though it was portrayed as one of convenience.”

  “Robert, never having had the honour to know them, I believe your sister,” Kristina announced. "But now I know what’s been bothering me about the letters from your uncle. It was the way he’d word certain things, which until now I never thought about. As a lost lover would say to his love in an attempt to gain her back."

  Robert leaned back against the armrest. The action brought Kristina to her feet and she helped him settle more comfortably. “Thank you. Now, what would you suggest we do?”

  “We need to read these letters, as we did with the ones from our uncle,” Donna asserted. "After which, read them in order. Only then will we garner a complete picture of what went on between them."

  “Yes, but not this afternoon," Kristina said emphatically. "You need to rest while we retire to our townhouses to prepare for this evening.”

  “Understood, and I wholeheartedly agree as I feel myself wanting to sleep,” Robert uttered, fighting to keep his eyes open.

  Mi
nutes later, after reaffirming what information the ladies would be spread at the ball they’d chosen to attend, Robert allowed Evan to assist him to his suite and into bed. Later he was awoken by his housekeeper, who’d brought him a simple dinner tray. He ate, then returned to bed and slept, dreaming of Kristina.

  Chapter Eight

  After the last eight days spent languishing in his townhouse, Robert was more than pleased to finally be leaving it. He'd begun to feel as if the walls were closing in on him.

  The only saving grace had been Kristina at his side, though unfortunately chaperoned by his sister or her mother in his suite or office. Later he had been able to spend time with her in one of the several sitting rooms and once even on the veranda. The downside was either lady along with his housekeeper always kept a watch over him, least he tire, so the women claimed.

  Tonight, with both ladies hinting, he’d reemerge into the social swirl of the ton to see who, if anyone, would try for him again. With a final glance in the mirror to make sure he'd dressed to turn heads despite the sling protecting his arm, he grinned at the gentleman looking back at him. He suspected more than one featherheaded chit would attempt to turn his attention toward them, but he was already formulating a plan to prevent it.

  Behind his reflection, he spotted Evan grinning at his discomfort. That didn’t set well with him. “Are you having a fun time seeing me suffer?” he demanded of his valet. The man’s response would decree his future.

  Evan stepped up to brush a piece of lint from his shoulder. “Of course not, Captain. I remember how you suffered with the saber slash, and compared to that, this is nothing. I’m glad that you decided to step out, but I’m also worried the shooter will try again.”

  “That’s the idea,” Robert responded, hoping to allay the man’s concerns. “To try to flush him out so we can bring the man to justice. We’d hoped he would have tried while I was recuperating, but since nothing untoward happened, this seems to be the only option.”